


Cut From the Same Cloth

by lilstrawbaby



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Dubious Consent, F/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6652798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilstrawbaby/pseuds/lilstrawbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her life and reputation were completely above reproach until she met Hannibal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cut From the Same Cloth

She can't help her body's response. She's always been sensitive (easily aroused) and the son of a bitch knows it, uses it against her. What further angers, what shames her, is his ambush while she sleeps. Her dream, while a particularly sweet one, turns nightmarish upon waking to discover Hannibal the Cannibal between her splayed legs, savoring her special flavor. He has pulled one leg over his shoulder, the other, removed above the knee, he holds against his chest.

"Hannibal, you bastard," she moans, but there is venom in her tone.

"Delia, caro," he whispers, "Non ti lascero mai andare. Siamo tagliati dalla stessa stoffa." 

"Stop it. Stop it!" 

He sinks into her, groaning softly at the sensations, taking great care with her, just like always. He has no real desire to cause her pain, but because she tried to flee them that first night, Will took it upon himself to crudely and partially remove her leg. He was infuriated and worried sick she would develop a serious infection and be gone from his life forever. He made mistakes in the past, allowed the only people he deeply cared about to be lost to him, but he isn't going to risk them again. He is getting a second chance and he won't lose them. Determined, he rests his hand on the small of her back, rolling them over and turning her back to his chest, sliding up into her once again.

She cries out, her hands gripping his thighs as gravity pulls her body flush against his and he bottoms out against her cervix. Her slick walls clench him once, twice, her long hair spilling down her back as her head falls back. His hands come to rest on her waist and he helps her move, as she only has one good leg. He is groaning beneath her, staring at her ass through half-open eyes as she rides him. Conversely, her eyes are squeezed shut, her whimpers becoming keening wails.

"What the hell, Bedelia," Will hollers, pounding on the door. He slings it open as he continues, "You're screeching loud enough-oh my God."

Panting, Hannibal commands, "Get out, Will."

"But-"

"Get out," Bedelia shrieks. She twists at the waist as reaches for the empty wine glass on the bedside table, throwing it at him and hitting the door frame beside his head. She is both horrified and further aroused by the fact that now Will knows he isn't Hannibal's one and only.

Ducking, the younger man scurries from the room, slamming the door behind him. Two feet from the door, he sinks to his knees and forces himself to listen, to accept that he has to share his mentor. He finally understands his long-held animosity toward her was simple petty jealousy. All this time, his unconscious mind has known what he has blinded himself to. In a way, it was embarrassingly anti-climatic.

Back in her bedroom, Bedelia is unraveling, her nails pressing into his skin. There is detonation and ecstasy radiates outward from her core, her body shaking so hard she clenches her teeth to keep them from rattling. Lost beyond her own veil temporarily, she is deaf and without sensation, unaware of Hannibal's continued movement.

Warmth filling her lures her back to the present. She hears his groan, feels his body straining against hers and his fingers pressed painfully into her hips. As he collapses back, he pulls her with him, rolling them onto their sides. He holds her close, kissing her sweat-dampened shoulder and nape, burying his nose in her sweet-smelling hair.

Hannibal quickly passes out-typical man, feed or fuck him and he's out like a light. However, Bedelia is wide awake, doing what makes her most dangerous-thinking. She has always had feelings for Hannibal, sometimes the nature of those feelings is murky or too worrisome to contemplate deeply, but now she believes it is time. He has taken so much, and is most likely responsible for taking her leg, leaving her incredibly vulnerable. Factor in Will's pre-existing animosity, add what he walked in on, and the answer spells disaster for her. Lecter will protect her, but if Will attacks him at a vulnerable moment, outside of her presence?

A soft tapping on the door pulls her from her musing, striking fear in her. She eases from her lovers arms and sits up, reaching for her crutches. Securing the cuffs around her forearms, she rises and slowly makes her way to the door. And quite possibly, her demise.

"Bedelia?"

Knots of fear clench in her stomach, but she refuses to be cowed by him. "What is it, Will?"

"Can we talk?"

"I don't think that is wise."

Stressed, he queries, "Do you think I'll attack you?"

"Honestly? Yes, I do."

"I-I can't believe you think I'd do that."

"Oh, don't get all butt hurt. You have hated me since I ran off with your boyfriend. When the two of you found me, you urged Hannibal to kill me and you were pissed off when he refused. And let's not forget how pleased you were to watch me wake to find my fucking leg was gone. So no, Will, I don't trust you any farther than I can throw you!"

She stiffens as arms snake around her waist tenderly. Brushing aside her disheveled locks, Hannibal whispers in her ear, "Delia, let him have his say."

She huffs in annoyance and after a moment snarls, "Speak."

"You're right. I didn't realize the truth until-and in that moment, I realized I was jealous. The part of me that was attracted to the darkness in Hannibal, and in myself, was jealous that you had the balls to run with him, where I was still clinging to morality and duty. I envied you for having him all to yourself, for having the attention I wanted."

Turning slightly, she looks at her lover with wide eyes. After a moment, her eyes narrow and she demands, "Did he ask you to do this, Will? Did he "persuade" you?"

"No," he answers honestly, sounding startled by her fierce tone, "I only just realized the truth myself, when I walked in on-on that."

"And how do I know you aren't just waiting for the opportune moment to kill me?"

"Delia," Hannibal, still whispering, scolds. 

He steps in front of her and opens the door to the younger man, smiling. He doesn't have an opportunity to register any emotion before the knife plunges into his heart. Grunting, he grabs Will's arms, knife in his chest, betrayal and pain in his eyes as he stares at his protegee. Horrified, Will lowers his friend to the floor, staring up at Bedelia, who watches in mute shock.

"Help him, damnit!"

"I...I"

"Bedelia, do something!"

"Will," Hannibal coughs blood, staring up at his friend, "Why?"

"I didn't-it was supposed to be her! That bitch ruined everything! I told you to kill her, I told you she would tear us apart!"

"Delia."

Dropping to her knee, she takes his hand into hers, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Hannibal."

"Ssh, caro, don't cry. You were right all along." He gives her a ghastly red smile, his thumb stroking her fingers before he jerks and goes still.

Covering her mouth, she unsuccessfully stifles a sob. Removing her hand from Hannibal's, she looks up at his killer, white-hot rage overtaking her at Will's teary face, his gaze focused on his mentor, as if unable to comprehend what he is seeing. Without warning, she jerks the knife from Hannibal's chest, attacking the stunned man.

"You bastard! You killed him!" She screams at him as she slashes and hacks, plunging the knife into him anywhere she can. By the time she returns to her senses, she's spent, her arm limp, her breathing harsh in the silence of the room, and Will Graham is dead. She hisses at the body, "It should have been you."

She maneuvers her crutches and gets to her feet, making her way to the bathroom. As the water flows over her hands, she feels the cuts to her palm burn. Grimacing, she wraps a towel around it to staunch the blood. After some time, she makes her way to the bed and sits, her thoughts beginning to refocus. She has two dead bodies on her hands and no one will believe she didn't kill them both, especially given the twisted history between the three of them.

Now she must decide her intentions going forward, because she isn't sure the world will buy another "he made me do it" tale. Although losing her leg to them a few months ago will go a long way toward gaining sympathy from jurors, especially as he is saving her tibia like a macabre soup bone.

Meticulously, she begins to examine her defense from every angle. It is insanely lucky for her that Hannibal and Will abducted her from her home, forcing her to leave with nothing but the clothing on her back and the burner phone she was able to smuggle into her underwear. She attempted to indicate signs of a struggle, including the blood on the floor and in the bathroom from the bloody nose Will so kindly gave when she initially refused Hannibal's "request" she come along for the ride.

The only thing to do now is to call for help. With shaking hands, she reaches for the small burner phone she kept hidden beneath the mattress at the head of her bed. She turns the phone on, calling the only number programed into the phonebook.

"Hello?" A groggy voice answers.

"J-Jack? It's Bedelia. Bedelia Du Maurier."

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued?


End file.
